Randomosity
by Forever Day
Summary: Couple of half-baked drabbles.
1. 1: Just a Normal Day at The Office

**So, here it begins. You can blame Xybolic totally that I actually wrote anything, let alone actually put it up. xD  
****(And yes, I _know_ that technically these should be only 100 words each to properly qualify as drabbles, but I think Drabble Collection sounds so much better than Short Stories. SS sounds like they have to have a point, when really these are just little drabbly things that don't exactly change the world. :p)**

* * *

**Just a Normal Day at The Office**

Holly Short ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy working with Mulch - she did, very much so, it was just that sometimes she missed being able to get up in the morning and know for sure that there would be, well, work waiting for her to do.

That had been her 'normal' since she had left school, and now working with Mulch for whom 'normal' was getting up as late as possible and then proceeding to do as little work as possible for the remainder of the day was a bit of a shock to her system.

Speaking of Mulch. She turned her gaze over to the dwarf and watched him idly turn the pages of a digi-paper. He had told her that he was searching for crimes committed, as business had been a bit slow recently, but judging from the naughty giggles that emitted from his throat it was much more likely he had been looking at the page three dwarfs again. Holly had tried to rid him of this habit once or twice before but to no avail, now she just let him get on with it. Besides, it gave her a short break without his sarcastic comments, and that meant she could get on with her work uninterrupted.

She picked up another digi-paper that was lying around, and started to flick methodically through it.

She had nearly reached the end when she came across the bounty column. Usually she wouldn't have spared this a second glance, but there had been remarkably little business recently, and she was willing to give anything a go.

The column itself was run by the LEP, basically appealing to the public for help with finding especially slippery criminals along with a sizeable reward for anyone who actually managed to catch one, or even for giving a tip off. Holly gave the entire thing a once-over with a critical eye. She knew exactly what she was looking for, after all, she had spent a month on this herself after 'accidently' pouring a nettle smoothie down Root's jumpsuit. She still felt a thrill of satisfaction along when she thought about it; the look on his face had been worth every moment of every awful job they had forced her on.

Root. . . Even weeks after his death she still felt his death like a festering wound that you came back to time and time again, never healing, not changing. She felt her eyes slowly filling up with tears, then shook her head. Back to work.

Right at the bottom, a single slot caught her eye. DOODAH DAY: SMUGGLING it read simply. She smiled. She had a pretty good idea where they would find this criminal, and along with Mulch's help it should be no problem to find him and receive the reward, one that was easily large enough to keep them going for a few months.

Picking up the paper she lent over to show Mulch. 'This is it' she thought. 'Just a normal day at the office.'

* * *

**For those of you who don't live in the UK, page 3 is basically the third page in the SUN newspaper. It's not really something I'm going to go into.**


	2. 2: Car Games

**Disclaimer: All the things that Beckett says have been directed at me at some point, usually on long car journeys, and belong to their respective owners. But seeing as their owners are not over 6 years old, I doubt they'll mind.**

"I thpy with my wittle eye something beginning with. . .A!" Beckett said triumphantly.

Artemis gave a long suffering sigh and began looking out of the window. Go on Artemis, just look after your brothers in the back, while me and your father drive for hours in the front. It'll be no problem whatsoever for you, right? Artemis shook his head. Why had he ever agreed to a holiday without a babysitter on hand?

Bringing himself back to the present he guessed. "An aglet?"

Beckett's little brow wrinkled. "Um, Awtemis?" he asked, "What ex-act-edly is an aglet?"

"It's the little thing at the end of your shoelace that stops it unravelling," Artemis said distractedly. What exactly could you see that started with an 'a' on the motorway, travelling at over 100mph?

Looking up from his laptop to help out his older brother, Myles rolled his eyes. "It's Artemis, isn't it Beckett?"

Beckett hopped up and down in his seat, "Yep, It's Awtemis."

Stuck between the two of them Artemis scowled. He could never get the hang of these children's games.

"So, it's you're turn now Awtemis," Beckett informed him.

"Er, yes," he said, "I spy, something beginning with a C."

"Nooooooo." Beckett told him. "You have to say, I thpy with my wittle eye."

Artemis closed his eyes for a second, gathering patience. "Alright then," he said eventually, opening his eyes. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with a C."

Beckett looked around for all of two seconds before making his guess. "Cars?"

Artemis nodded exasperated. How did the twins manage to get them so fast?

Beckett remained unaware of his older brother's irritation. "My turn now," he said. "I thby with my wittle eye something beginning with a . . . A."

Artemis groaned. Another A? "Could it be Artemis?" he guessed.

"No silly," Beckett said. "I've alwedy done that won."

Artemis searched around with his eyes. For once in his life he was completely stumped. What on earth could Beckett be thinking of?

"Do you give up, Awtemis?" Beckett asked when his brother had looked around for an appropriate length of time with no new guesses.

Artemis decided to take the easy way out. He had found when dealing with his brothers that this was usually the way to go. "Yes Beckett, I give up."

Beckett grinned. "It was an arang-utan."

Artemis was well and truly lost. "An arag-utan?" he asked. "Are you sure you don't you mean an orang-utan?" And then as an added afterthought, "And if so, where could you possibly have seen one?"

Beckett smiled happily up at Artemis. "I saw it in my imagination simple-toon. And I meant what I said. An _arang-utan_. And as you didn't guess cowwectly I get another go!"

Artemis rubbed his temples. Could he possibly be serious?

"I thby with my wittle eye something beginning with. . .a. . .L!"

Apparently so.

"Errr, a leaf?" he guessed.

"Nope." Beckett shook his head.

"A lake?" he tried again.

"Nope."

"A lollipop?"

"Nope."

"A lace?"

"Nope."

"A lion?" he asked (it was possible that this was another figment of Beckett's imagination)

"Nope," Beckett said once more. "I'll give you a clue, 'kay?"

Artemis nodded. A clue would definitely be useful.

"It's a colour."

_A colour?_ Artemis thought _Where in the rules does it say you can use colours? Although. . . I suppose you _can _spy them with 'your wittle eyes'._

"Come on," said Beckett impatiently from his side.

"Lime green?" he guessed.

"Nope," said Beckett. It was becoming quite the favourite word.

"Errrrrm," (How many colours started with L anyway?) "Lemon yellow?"

Beckett jumped in his seat clapping. "Yes, yes that's right! Lellow!"

_Lellow?_ Thought Artemis. _Lellow? Am I hearing things?_

"So," Beckett went on without pause. "Why don't we play a different game now?"

"Yes," said Artemis immediately. Anything had to be better than I spy.

"What 'bout jotes?" Beckett asked.

Artemis retracted his earlier statement with speed. "Why don't we go back to I spy?" he advised.

Beckett shook his head. "Noooooo," he said determinedly "I want to do jotes."

"Well I'm not that funny-," Artemis started, but Beckett cut him off.

"You don't even have to do anything. I'll make up the jotes, and all you have to do is laugh at the wight time, 'kay?"

Well, this sounded easy enough. "Alright then." He replied.

Beckett closed his eyes and breathed, as if about to perform in front of hundreds in a huge theatre, rather than one teenager in the back seat of a car. "Knock, knock," he started.

Artemis smiled. He could do this. "Who's there?" he asked.

"Beckett," Beckett said, already grinning at the joke. Assuming this was his cue, Artemis began laughing.

Beckett scowled. "Not yet, simple-toon. The jokes not done yet."

"Oh, er, sorry," Artemis said, abruptly stopping. Thank goodness that wasn't the punch line. "Beckett who?" he asked.

"Beckett Fowl!" Beckett promptly finished and collapsed laughing. Artemis tried to join in the hearty laughter, but it was rather hard when he didn't share even a small amount of the amusement. Apparently Beckett hadn't inherited a sense of humour either.

"I'll go 'gain." Beckett informed him once he had calmed down. "Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" Artemis asked.

"Myles." Beckett replied.

"Myles who?" Artemis asked, with a sinking feeling that he knew where this was going. He was not disappointed.

"Myles Fowl!" Beckett finished and started to laugh again. Artemis joined in as well, but not without some effort.

"Me go 'gain." Beckett told him.

"Alright then," Artemis replied, feverently hoping for a _slightly_ better joke this time.

"Knock, knock." Beckett began.

"Who's there?" (So far, so good.)

"Artemis." (Oh no. Please, please no. And it was all going so well)

"Artemis, who?"

"Artemis Fowl!" Beckett finished and shrieked with laughter once more. Artemis managed a sort of dry chuckle.

"I go again," Beckett said. "Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" Artemis asked, not bothering to get his hopes up. It was the right move.

"Angeline."

"Angeline, who?"

"Angeline Fowl" Beckett finished in stitches once more.

_Surely everyone had a bigger repertoire of jokes than this? _Thought Artemis_ For goodness sake, even I do! _But still he managed to get something out of his throat for his little brother. Although it did sort of sound as if he had a dead cat stuck down there.

"Knock, knock." Beckett went on after finishing laughing.

"Who's there?"

"Juliet."

"Juliet who?" (he _knew _where this was going.)

"Juliet Butler!" Beckett was pounding his fist against the seat in his hysterics.

Artemis gave a long sigh. This was going to be a _looooong_ journey.


	3. 3: Tick Tock Clock

Holly Short glanced up at the clock. 5 minutes 19 seconds to go.

* * *

A minute later she looked up again. 4 minutes 3 seconds still left. She tried to return her attention to the screen in front of her.

* * *

3 minutes 37 seconds. She was getting impatient. How long exactly did 5 minutes take?

* * *

2 minutes 14 seconds left. With a supreme force of will she resumed typing.

* * *

1 minute 45 seconds. Tapping her kitten nails against the side of her desk she re-checked the document in front of her deciding that ARRRRRRGH wasn't an appropriate word to use.

* * *

30 seconds left. She gave up trying to give the impression that she was working and instead watched the clock with a sense of emergency.

20 seconds. . .

10. . .

9. . .

8. . .

Come on, come on. . .

7. . .

6. . .

Just keep right on ticking Mr Clock. . .

5. . .

4. . .

Mere seconds left now. . .

3. . .

2. . .

And. . .

"FINALLY!"

Captain Holly Short of the LEP jumped out of her chair and flew across the room and out the door at a speed with would've shamed a sprite, if not a pair of fairy wings.

Finally it was here. . .

Coffee time!


	4. 4: Pot Plants

**Just a quick shout out to CieloCrimisi the most amazing unofficial beta out there.**

* * *

Commander Trouble Kelp of the LEP was about to take his _very first_ sip of his _very first_ sim coffee of the day when his computer beeped.

After muttering a few choice words at the timing, he double clicked the flashing icon on the screen and waited for the message to appear. It had better not be those dwarfs from the LEP's café complaining that they didn't have enough vole curry again. He was at the point of sending a shuttle full of them to the Sahara and leaving them to bake.

Thankfully, it wasn't. As the message rotated and stretched to fill the screen Trouble saw that it was in fact from Major Ben Verr. It read:

_Dear Commander Kelp,_

_As you may or may not be aware, the officers of Haven Correctional Facility have been the target of much mockery on the subject of our uniforms._

Trouble grinned slightly as he read this. It was in fact Foaly's fault that they were subject to this daily taunting from their colleagues. The uniform itself left a lot to be desired – shiny green with metallic tassels, but that usually wouldn't amount to anything other than some harassed wife complaining about how hard it was to clean tassels. Then one day, on one of his rare trips into the actual prison section of the LEP, Foaly had chanced upon one of them standing in the corridor and he had immediately burst into laughter. When asked to explain he had said: "They wear green, stand in a corner doing nothing, and no one pays any attention to them – pot plants!"

Naturally, the guards hated this with a passion. So, naturally, it had stuck fast. It didn't help that because of his little brother that there was now some serious stigma attached to any sort of plants.

Trouble shook his head, and returned his attention to the message in front of him.

_We feel that this is unnecessary strife on our part, and would be most obliged if you would grant us permission to change our uniform to something slightly less amusing to the general public. This wouldn't cost the LEP anything, as all of us have put our own money towards this worthy cause. The simple changes we propose are as follows:_

_-Instead of the uniform being reflective, it will be changed to a matte material. This will allow officers the chance to blend into the shadows and observe the prisoners, rather than be blaringly obvious the moment they walk in the door._

_-The tassels will be removed. These we feel are an unnecessary decoration and cost._

_-The colour will be changed from green to brown._

_Thank you for your time._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Major Ben Verr_

Trouble gave the entire thing a customary once over before composing his reply, approving the change. It didn't actually cost the LEP anything, and it was always better to stay on the good side of people who owned the keys to the most dangerous criminals' prison doors.

* * *

Major Ben Verr of the LEP was quietly sipping his sim coffee in his nice new _brown _uniform when he received the news.

A buff, low-IQ prison guard walked into his office, looking slightly confused. "Er, boss?" he asked.

Huffing at his interrupted coffee moment, Major Verr looked up. "What?"

The guard twisted the shirttails of his new _brown _uniform. Even irritated, Ben couldn't help but feel a jolt of pleasure at the look. No longer would he have to be taunted by various other LEP personnel, no longer would his wife call him a pot plant when she was angry with him, and no longer would he have to look at himself in the mirror with shame!

The guard shifted in his new _brown _boots. "Er, boss?" he said again.

Ben, caught up in happy thoughts, jerked back to the present. "_What?"_

"Well, ya' know that centaur?"

Ben scowled. Did he know that centaur. . .

"Well, ya' know wot 'es been callin' us?"

Major Verr's eyes widened as all manner of possibilities ran through his mind. He couldn't have. . . Not so soon! They had the new uniforms and everything! It was with an almost feverish haste he asked him,"What?"

The guard looked even more uncomfortable. "Well ya' know about that centaur. . ."

_No I don't know you moron – that's why I'm asking you,_ Ben thought, rather unprofessionally. "Go on," he coaxed out loud, "What's he been saying?"

"Uhhhh. . ." Deviated from his train of thought by the question, the guard was taking a while to recover it. "Uhhhhh. . .Who?"

"The centaur!" Ben snapped. "_What is he calling us?_"

"Oh, yeah," the guard said ponderously. "The centaur. As I wos sayin' 'es gotta new name for us."

Ben Verr was strangling air. "_What. Is. It?"_

"Well, boss," the guard said slowly, "'Ya know the joke used to go, that we stood in the corner, doin' nuffin' an' no one looks at us an' we 'ad greeny uniforms like plants?"

"Yes! I do know!" Ben was not in the mood to be reminded.

"Well, now 'e says that we stand in the corner not doin' nuffin, no one pays any at-ten-tion to us and we wear brown."

"_WHAT IS HE CALLING US?" _

"Well boss," he said, finally getting to the point, "Now see wot he calls us, 'e calls us _dead _pot plants."

* * *

Somewhere, not so far away, a not-so-innocent centaur was watching this exchange with glee. He rubbed his hands. The expression on Verr's face was worth at least a million views on horsesense dot gnom.

* * *

**According to my momma, this actually happened in South Africa. **


End file.
